CH-073

73 The Eight-Inch Divine Statue

Thanks to Hugo, Shu Li stood on the left side of the welcoming formation.

This allowed him to closely observe the key figures of the entire hunting ground.

Opposite him stood the military and the nobles.

Shu Li recognized the Black Knight Captain, Roy, at a glance.

However, this name wasn't something Shu Li had managed to get from him. Shu Li had asked the knight captain for his name at least three times: the first time at the Cason City assembly square, the second around the time of the wedding, and the third in the church where he came to pick up Leslie.

He got the name from Leslie's mouth.

Shu Li also didn't know why he wouldn't say his own name.

If a name is tied to identity, Shu Li already knew his identity.

At that time, why would Roy still want to protect his own name?

The Black Knight Captain had originally been looking towards the Duke and Duchess but, catching Shu Li's gaze from the corner of his eye, his neck moved slightly but he didn't respond.

Shu Li then focused his attention on the arriving Cardinal.

The Cardinal who came this time was Leslie's maternal grandfather, Otto Samuels.

He was around fifty or sixty years old, his hair half grey and white. Even though he was old, his frame was still straight. His jawline was clear, and despite some loose flesh, one could tell the original lines had been clean. His body had noticeably low body fat, making him look even more weary and haggard than Bishop Hugo, slightly older too.

However, Shu Li remembered Bishop Hugo saying that Otto Samuels was his student.

A sense of indescribable dislocation arose for a moment, as if time had walked in the wrong direction on them.

Just as Shu Li was sizing up Cardinal Otto, Otto was also sizing up the young man standing beside Hugo—Father Aris.

This priest was too young, much too young, not to mention he had only been a priest for less than a year.

If it were three years ago, with Hugo's influence, promoting a young person with no background to bishop would hardly have been difficult.

Bishop Hugo had previously served as the vice-principal of the Southern Military Academy for twenty-eight years, his students scattered throughout the upper echelons of the church, with some even having risen to Patriarch.

He himself was also an advisor to the Holy City Parliament, a confidant of the Pope, and was respectfully called the "Wise Elder."

In the current diocese, it was no secret that noble children held titular bishop positions.

Like Adela's two children, Cavan and Shem, who were baptized at age five and naturally received their bishop appointments at eighteen.

But the problem was that the church had revised its code three years ago. To curb the sale of offices by nobles, current regulations required bishop candidates to be at least thirty years old and have at least five years of experience administering sacraments. Those appointed previously could retain their positions, but new appointees were uniformly subject to the rule.

Aris had undoubtedly missed the best timing.

"Timing" had made this matter too troublesome.

Furthermore, Bishop Hugo had arranged the consecration ceremony process so tightly, leaving almost no room for anyone to check, let alone make a provisional special nomination.

If he could obtain a papal dispensation at this point, promoting Father Aris to the position of bishop would be effortless.

Cardinal Otto also glanced at the bishop candidates.

Among them were also some young faces. Clearly, these people were only there to pave the way for their future rapid promotion within their own dioceses—or to put it bluntly, they were arranged to be mere spectators.

Bishop Whitmore, standing nearby, seeing Cardinal Otto sizing up the surroundings, said, "Cardinal Otto, everyone is waiting for you."

Cardinal Otto swept his gaze over the fully armored knights and high-ranking clergy.

The black iron armor gleamed coldly under the snowlight; the silver chain crosses on the chests of the white-robed clergy on the other side also shone brightly.

It was clear they weren't just there to participate in the ritual of the winter hunt, but also to carry out faith and commands.

His gaze finally fell on the people at the edge of the formation—Leslie looked cold, and from the very first meeting, had never looked him in the eye properly.

That child was blaming him... Or perhaps hating him...

Cardinal Otto frowned slightly but ultimately let out a silent sigh.

He withdrew his gaze and met the eyes of Duke Claude standing on the other side.

The air seemed to pause for a moment.

Cardinal Otto raised his hand and solemnly declared, "This winter hunt is the North's tribute to the Holy City and the Diocese."

His voice wasn't loud, but it echoed clearly across the entire clearing.

He paused, scanning the crowd. High-ranking clergy and knights alike looked up at him.

Alertness, scrutiny, tension, anticipation, confusion.

All kinds of gazes intertwined.

He continued, "The winter night comes early in the North. Saying more would only delay you. The winter hunt—let it begin!"

"May you hunt successfully and return victorious."

As his voice fell, he raised his right hand and slowly traced an arc as if in prayer.

Silence.

But Cardinal Otto then bowed to Duke Claude. Although the bow was not deep, it was enough to cause a slight stir.

The Northerners present exchanged glances, their expressions complex, containing both surprise and doubt.

This kind of gesture, even from the highest lord of the North, was extremely rare.

Shocking.

Since he had set the example, the others could only follow suit one by one.

Thus, the rustling of ceremonial robes and white garments arose.

Looking around, the clergy all followed suit, bowing their heads. Though their movements were not as smooth or uniform, and somewhat hesitant, no one dared to disobey.

Duke Claude stood to the side, his expression indifferent. His gaze swept from one clergy member to another, like a cold wind brushing snow, calm and sharp. Only when he reached Father Aris did the Duke pause, looking at his bowed neck and head for a few seconds.

The young man kept his head down in silence, his back straight, his expression indistinguishable.

Claude looked carefully, staring for a full few seconds.

How peculiar.

This priest, sharp-tongued and with a prickly gaze at every meeting, would actually show such a docile appearance.

He didn't say anything, only slightly raised an eyebrow.

"..."

Standing in the crowd, Shu Li suddenly felt a needle-like gaze fall on him.

He instinctively wanted to look up, but seeing from the corner of his eye that the clergy around him still had their heads bowed, the scene solemn and silent, he had to suppress his impulse and maintain his posture.

Fortunately, this stalemate didn't last too long. Duke Claude was the first to mount his horse, the sound of hooves landing clearly, like a signal of release.

Shu Li only looked up after the people around him raised their heads.

He saw the Duke's figure on horseback slowly move forward, his cloak billowing in the wind like a crimson flag fluttering in the breeze, his silhouette tall and steep. The Duke held the reins with his left hand, his knuckles pale and slender, the silver ring glinting faintly in the light.

"..."

In such cold weather, during this hunting season, everyone else was bundled up like balls.

Claude didn't even wear gloves, holding the reins bare-handed, with a silver ring to boot. Wasn't he afraid of getting chilblains, or the metal sticking to his skin? Truly brave!

He instinctively looked towards the rear of the hunting procession. Sure enough, he saw Leslie walking quietly among the clergy. Shu Li's gaze passed over Leslie and stopped at his hands.

The child was wearing gloves today.

They were a pair of dark grey wool gloves, the cuffs neatly tucked into the sleeves of his cloak, looking carefully put on.

Shu Li's heart relaxed, and he unconsciously let out a soft sigh.

Just as he was about to look away, Leslie also happened to look up.

Their eyes met squarely.

In that instant, like a little hedgehog feeling an unfamiliar touch, Leslie's gaze flickered—a little flustered, a little awkward, and trying to pretend to be calm. Leslie quickly turned his face away, pretending he hadn't seen anything.

Shu Li couldn't help but smile softly, silently. He also withdrew his gaze, pretending nothing had happened.

Watching their procession disappear into the distance, a doubt suddenly arose in Shu Li's mind.

What exactly were the rest of them supposed to do now that they were staying here?

Just wait for them to come back?

Just as this thought crossed his mind, Shu Li saw several deacons and nuns treading the snowy path forward, guiding them towards a nearby hunting observation platform.

It was already well prepared, with silver platters arranged tastefully on the tables, displaying a dazzling array of food—baguettes, pastries mixed with jam and dried fruits, pickled fish, and more.

Around it, seven or eight stoves with tall, roaring flames were set up.

Upon reaching the observation platform, Cardinal Otto let the clergy disperse.

Shu Li, feeling a chill on his neck from the cold wind, instinctively wanted to go back to find Father Simeon and Ramon, the three of them huddle together, and chat about the good things he had brought.

The pot and pickled cabbage in their carriage hadn't been unloaded yet.

If they were lucky, they could even have hot pot.

But as he turned around, instead of seeing them, Shu Li saw a flash of red on a wide expanse of snowy ground.

It was the little fox, Naci.

Wearing a red scarf, it stood before the carriages, its white figure almost merging with the snow, leaving only a pair of grape-like eyes sparkling brightly, nothing else.

That was precisely why Shu Li had chosen the red scarf for Naci.

And this vain little fox always tied the scarf neatly before going out, redoing it even if it was slightly crooked.

He had only just looked when a horse's startled neigh reached his ears.

It turned out that little fox Naci had deliberately walked up to the horses.

Several horses, however, acted as if they had encountered a fierce beast, retreating, stomping the ground, and shaking their heads uneasily.

Seeing the horses startled, little Naci sat leisurely, scratching its head and ears with its hind legs.

—Clearly, the little fox was deliberately "bullying" the horses.

Shu Li didn't know whether to laugh or cry and gave a short whistle.

Hearing the sound, Naci's ears perked up immediately. It quickly trotted over, lightly nuzzled against Shu Li's feet, and pawed at his leg.

When Shu Li bent down to pet its head, Naci stretched out its front paws to be held.

Before Shu Li could scoop it up, Naci was already climbing into his arms, knowing the way well.

Bishop Hugo had seen the little fox before, thinking it was just Father Aris's little pet. But after witnessing it intimidate the horses, a thought emerged in his mind.

"This fox is quite spirited."

Bishop Holm also approached and introduced to Bishop Hugo, "After the Harvest Festival fire incident, foxes from the mountains came daily to defecate at the homes of the principal and accessory offenders. The fox droppings were shockingly foul, stinking so much that even the offenders themselves couldn't stand living in their own houses."

Hugo raised an eyebrow slightly, hearing him speak so familiarly, as if Holm had known Shu Li first. So, Bishop Hugo put his arm around Shu Li and moved him away from Bishop Holm.

"Holm, as a circuit bishop responsible for judgment, representing justice and order, you should maintain distance from those you scrutinize, especially Father Aris."

Bishop Holm glanced at Bishop Hugo, his tone cold, "Don't try to provoke me. Even if Aris gets my vote, his qualifications don't meet the basic requirements to be a bishop."

Bishop Hugo smiled in response, "Even if I didn't use provocation, you'd still get agitated seeing me, wouldn't you?"

What Bishop Holm hated most about Hugo was this—that gentle, effortless tone that always hit the nail on the head, like a knife slipped between words, killing invisibly.

Bishop Hugo continued, "Who said I definitely want to push Father Aris to be the bishop of the Savoy Parish?"

Exactly, exactly.

Bishop Hugo had previously feared that Shu Li might distance himself because of the bishop matter, so he had specially treated him to yellow peaches. During that time, he had also inquired about Shu Li's thoughts, confirming that Shu Li wasn't interested in becoming a bishop. At the time, Shu Li had felt quite relieved and comforted.

Therefore, Shu Li silently nodded along with Bishop Hugo's words.

However, Bishop Holm wasn't buying it and retorted, "Then why have you been频繁 visiting Duke Claude these past few months?"

A flicker passed through Bishop Hugo's eyes, the thought behind them fleeting, as he said very casually, "Naturally, I've been trying to take Leslie as my student. What's strange about visiting frequently?"

Hearing Leslie mentioned, Shu Li perked up his ears.

The moment this sentence fell, Shu Li noticed a group of ears subtly moving closer to them.

Shu Li looked over, and the passing clergy either sped up or slowed down, all basically widening the distance between them.

Shu Li: "..."

*

Meanwhile, Cardinal Otto had been escorted by Bishop Whitmore to the very front of the observation platform.

As soon as they sat down, nuns poured them mulled wine.

The steaming alcohol fumes carried a warm fragrance through the cold air.

Cardinal Otto had just raised his cup when he noticed the commotion around Bishop Hugo.

A scrutinizing look appeared in his eyes, and he spoke in a voice just loud enough for two people to hear: "Did Bishop Hugo tell you about recommending Father Aris? Do you know what to do?"

Bishop Whitmore had naturally also received Bishop Hugo's letter.

When he got it, he thought Bishop Hugo had either grown senile or gone mad.

In Bishop Whitmore's view, the church today was not the church he knew back in the diocese.

If Father Aris had 5 years of experience and was over 30, this matter would be much easier.

Alternatively, if Father Aris was a prodigy, carrying a sacred destiny, or had made special martyrdom contributions.

But unfortunately, Aris was so young.

At that age, becoming a priest was already something.

Logically, he was either a noble or a prodigy from a seminary. There was a third possibility.

This third possibility precisely explained why Aris was sent to a desolate little church.

Aris was actually a confidant or subordinate of some church faction.

This was something even Bishop Whitmore considered an easily discernible truth.

Yet Bishop Hugo still showed such partiality and affection for Father Aris.

One had to admit, the old man was truly getting old.

Now that the Cardinal had brought up Bishop Hugo's matter, Bishop Whitmore took an imperceptible sip of his wine, his gaze passing over the rim.

The Bishop said, "I actually received a letter too. I suspect Bishop Hugo might have received a commission from the Holy City. But since Cardinal Otto seems unsure how to proceed, it suggests you haven't heard anything from the Holy City about Bishop Hugo taking sides. So, I'm afraid I don't know what to do either."

Cardinal Otto frowned but didn't reply.

Seeing his reticence, Bishop Whitmore felt a desire to probe further.

He wanted to confirm the rumors about Father Aris.

So he spoke, "Then Bishop Hugo must have heard some rumors too. There are many stories about Father Aris in the Cason Parish. They say the young man is composed beyond his years, speaks steadily, and quietly turned the entire town's situation around. The most impressive rumor is that Father Aris is a future papal candidate."

Cardinal Otto looked startled at this, then leaned back, a rare expression of absurdity appearing on his face: "What utter nonsense is this?"

Although the Pope is indeed selected, it's basically from a few factions, dark horses are rare. At the Cardinal's level, they've already met candidates from the major families.

"I have never seen this young man Aris."

His eye color was so distinctive, Cardinal Otto certainly wouldn't have forgotten.

Bishop Whitmore had guessed as much.

The Holy City was full of his confidants. If there was any news, he would know.

Bishop Whitmore also wanted to get information from Cardinal Otto, so he continued probing, "I have also guessed that perhaps Bishop Hugo has been bewitched by this Father Aris. Look at what he's done in Cason City over the past ten years, it's completely different from what he did in the Holy City. He's not the clear-headed man he once was..."

The Bishop's tone was full of helplessness: "I don't want to speak ill of the old man, but when one gets old, it's easy to become soft-hearted and confused."

Cardinal Otto tilted his head, looking at the hunting crowd in the distance, but remained silent.

His mind was pondering: whether Bishop Hugo had taken a side or not, whether Father Aris had some special mission or not, Cardinal Otto only knew that Bishop Hugo had thrown a huge problem at him.

Otto finally spoke, his tone more casual than at the beginning: "That stuff doesn't matter. Do you have any way to let this Father Aris become a bishop exceptionally?"

At these words, Bishop Whitmore finally understood Cardinal Otto's essence.

The Cardinal and Lady Adela were the same type of people—secure in their high positions in the diocese, but remarkably empty-headed, usually just throwing problems at others to solve.

His heart filled with contempt for the Cardinal.

Bishop Whitmore quickly responded, "If Bishop Hugo isn't thinking of sending him to the Holy City, but just wants to give him the title of Bishop of Savoy, then falsifying his age and performance history is not difficult. The real problem is how to silence public criticism and suppress external doubts. You must know that many people are already well aware of the basic standards for bishop candidates."

"So you haven't answered my question, have you?"

So Bishop Whitmore said, "Cardinal, in my opinion, you should persuade Bishop Hugo, tell him that making Father Aris a bishop is not urgent. Let him serve as a priest for five years first, then we can find a way to promote him. Or, he can bear all the criticism that comes with Aris becoming bishop, and we will cooperate."

Cardinal Otto frowned immediately, "If I could persuade him, why would I be talking to you about this?"

The Bishop was somewhat impatient, always finding it most tiresome to deal with this kind of superior. But he still maintained a pleasant tone and continued, "Then the easiest thing right now is for the Cardinal to vote, and I'll vote too, and do what needs to be done. Then just wait for those candidates to raise any objections. If they have no complaints, we can just turn a blind eye."

Cardinal Otto turned to look at Whitmore, "How do I explain this to the Pope? That we allowed an 18-year-old priest to become a bishop? Do you want me to be chewed out, have the approval rejected, and then have Aris removed? And then face Bishop Hugo again?"

The Bishop had truly never seen a Cardinal who wanted to please both sides while avoiding trouble, and felt anger rising inside him, though he suppressed it.

"Cardinal, you're not thinking clearly enough. You would have paved the way. If there are risks, say it was Bishop Hugo acting alone. If the Pope questions it later, you can push it back to Bishop Hugo. And in front of Hugo, you can say you tried your best, but the Holy See wouldn't allow it. Doesn't that keep both sides happy?"

Cardinal Otto looked as if he had an external brain that had straightened out his thoughts for him.

"That is indeed much simpler."

He finished speaking and finally raised his cup to drink. But as the wine touched his lips, he frowned: "It's gotten cold too fast."

No sooner had he spoken than Bishop Whitmore coldly shouted at the clergy, "Are you all blind? The wine is this cold."

Father Jace, who was closest, quickly stepped forward, brought freshly warmed wine, and respectfully handed it to Cardinal Otto.

The moment he turned, his back leg was viciously kicked.

"If I don't say it, you won't change it for me?" Whitmore no longer concealed his impatience, his voice not loud but full of fire.

Father Jace couldn't help but grunt, his face paling slightly, but he didn't dare say a word. He just lowered his head and picked up the wine jug.

Despite the obscure emotions hidden in his eyes, accustomed to such silent humiliation, he silently changed the cup, refilled it with hot wine, bowed his head, and retreated.

Having resolved one matter in his mind, Cardinal Otto turned his attention to the winter hunt.

Every year, the younger generation was allowed to join the winter hunt.

It was training, and also something like an arranged "youth arena"—a ranking match for noble children.

This time, however, Veronica had also come.

Only twelve years old this year, she was already the most famous and youngest huntress in the diocese. The bow and arrow were almost part of her body; beasts would step back half a step just seeing her.

Dismounting from her horse, her silver-grey hunting coat billowed in the wind, her long braid tied behind her head. Her expression was faint, but her gaze was exceptionally sharp.

Standing there, saying nothing, she gave off an oppressive feeling of "I'm here to win."

Among the group of children, she was like a drawn dagger, its cold light piercing the eyes.

Cardinal Otto watched this scene, a complex emotion rising in his heart.

He had seen them part on bad terms this morning, and now they were competing in the snowy hunt.

That gunpowder smell was impossible to hide.

The ones most likely to have accidents on the snowy plain weren't the timid children, but those too eager to win, too unwilling to lose.

However, as the old saying goes, "When it rains, it pours." Just as Cardinal Otto had feared, barely 20 minutes after the hunting procession departed, an accident occurred in the youth group.

But this matter wasn't immediately reported by a scout.

Instead, it came from the mouths of Cavan and Shem—Veronica had fallen and fractured a bone, and Leslie had been called in for a talk.

"That girl looks quite cute and quiet, but she's extremely bold. This morning she criticized us boys, saying we were worthless. Then she went on to say the priests in the North were all a bunch of decrepit weaklings, not a single useful one among them."

Cavan spoke, using his hands and feet to gesture, "Then Leslie jabbed at her, saying, 'Those who only use insults to show their superiority aren't really that great.' She got really angry and insisted on breaking into the military's hunting ground to catch some big prey to show off."

Shem hadn't really wanted to join the conversation; he just wanted Shu Li to help roast the rabbits they had caught.

The rabbit skins, meat, and organs had already been handled by someone else; they just needed to be given to Shu Li to roast using his method.

Shu Li didn't mind doing this for the children. It also allowed him to avoid other social interactions, which for an introvert like Shu Li was simply ideal.

Generally, meat tastes better if marinated in advance.

But hearing that their stomachs were growling with hunger, Shu Li started roasting the rabbit meat over charcoal for them.

Fortunately, Shu Li found various spices in their kitchen, especially cumin, which removes gamey and fishy smells.

However, they didn't have the modern practice of grinding spices into powder, which took Shu Li some effort.

Charcoal and open flames burned together under the grill.

While the whole piece of game was being roasted, releasing an oily fragrance, Shu Li kept brushing it with oil.

The oil used was chicken fat Shu Li had rendered while processing chicken during the journey, golden like molten egg yolk.

After the first layer of oil was applied, no one could smell anything and didn't know what it was.

Cavan and Shem thought it was just darker butter.

But after the second and third layers of oil, a savory chicken aroma wafted out. The two children crowded around the jar to observe the oil, "Why does this rabbit smell like roast chicken? What kind of oil is this?"

Shu Li hadn't even added the ground cumin for the final touch, and Cavan and Shem were already beside themselves with impatience, unable to talk about anything else, just waiting for Shu Li to feed them.

But Shu Li still wasn't rushing to give it to them.

"You still haven't said why Leslie didn't come."

Shem stared at the roasting meat, his mouth watering, and he had to swallow hard before quickly saying, "After entering the adults' hunting ground, that girl's horse was startled by the military's stray arrow and started running wild, looking like it was heading towards a cliff."

Shu Li then said, "So that's why the girl got a fracture?"

Cavan immediately replied, "No, no."

"Leslie chased after her. Father Aris, you didn't see how brave Leslie was. He rode up close, grabbed that girl by the collar, pulled her towards himself, and successfully scooped her back. The girl's horse couldn't be saved, but at least she was okay."

Shu Li was confused.

How did she get hurt then?

Did they fight on horseback?

"Why was the girl injured?"

Shem explained, "Because when Leslie brought the girl back to our hunting ground..." Shem got excited and patted Shu Li's arm, "You won't believe it, that girl looked like she was about to thank Leslie, but then Leslie grabbed her collar and threw her straight into a snow pile."

"..."

Shu Li couldn't imagine how many romantic problems such an ungentlemanly move would cause Leslie in the future. "So, the girl got hurt falling there?"

As he asked, he took the game off the iron fork.

Cavan quickly guided his hand towards himself, waiting eagerly to be fed.

Shu Li said, "Don't rush. You haven't finished telling the story yet!"

Cavan thought Shu Li was too slow; they could just eat and talk, why force them to finish the story first? So he quickly concluded, "No. After being thrown into the snow pile by Leslie, the girl was so angry she chased after the horse and got kicked. You know, you shouldn't stand behind a horse."

"So, Leslie was called to help treat the injury?"

Shem nodded.

After nodding, they finally got to taste the roasted rabbit.

With every "sizzling" bite, a bit of juice splattered out. The meat was savory, tender, and smooth, with no gamey taste at all.

The two of them finished one rabbit in no time, only regretting that they hadn't caught enough to eat, not having much meat.

Their eyes fixed greedily on the little drumstick left for Leslie, Cavan couldn't help but regret, "...I feel like I just got my appetite going, and now there's nothing left."

Seeing the two clearly hadn't had enough, Shu Li said, "If you can get some prey from the adults' hunting ground, I can make some more for you."

The two children hurried off.

Soon after they left, Sister Rita came over, asking on behalf of the other curious people what Shu Li had used to make the food smell so good.

"Besides chicken fat, salt is very important."

Thinking she didn't have salt, Shu Li handed his salt bag to Rita.

Unexpectedly, Rita stepped back, as if she disliked being so close to Shu Li. Her expression, however, didn't change much. She said thank you and immediately left.

Shu Li didn't think much of it because he saw Leslie coming to find his two brothers.

Shu Li called out to him, "I've roasted the rabbit meat. Your brothers left the leg for you. Come and eat it first."

Upon hearing this, Leslie widened his eyes slightly.

Father Aris had roasted it especially for him?

He was stunned for a moment, finding it hard to express his feelings, "...Thank you."

Shu Li's eyes crinkled in a smile, "Were you called to help treat injuries? Do they know you can heal?"

Hearing this, Leslie's pupils moved, then he mumbled, "Yeah."

"But I didn't agree..."

Or rather, Leslie simply didn't care.

It wasn't him who caused the girl's injury.

He had no responsibility or obligation towards her.

Nevertheless, he was still worried about what Shu Li thought of him, so he tentatively asked, "Do you want me to go heal her leg?"

Shu Li was still waiting for him to take a bite of his work, but Leslie, not in a hurry to eat, asked this question instead.

Shu Li wasn't interested in excessive kindness. Even though sometimes he did think, if you can help, then help. But that was his own business; he wouldn't force others to do the same.

"It's not your problem. If you don't want to do it, you don't have to."

Leslie hesitated for a moment, then said, "But if it were Finnian, even if he didn't want to, as long as it benefited the majority, he would do it. If I don't want to heal her, does that mean I'm not as good as him?"

"You are you, and he is him. Just do what you like. Why measure yourself by someone else's standards?"

Shu Li said, "I don't think you're any worse than Finnian."

"..."

Leslie's smile was just starting to form.

Shu Li's voice sounded again, "However, I think you still need to be gentler with girls, so it'll be easier for you to gain their... their favor in the future!"

Leslie suddenly felt as if Shu Li had denied him, and felt wronged.

He didn't want to be nice to that girl. It was all for Father Aris's sake.

Who told her to speak ill of the priest?

But Father Aris didn't know anything, yet told him to be friends with that girl.

Without even taking a bite, Leslie silently put the roasted meat back and ran back the way he came without looking back.

When Cavan and Shem returned with a deer leg they had gotten from the processing area, they happened to see Leslie running away. They asked in confusion, "Where's Leslie going?"

Shu Li didn't know either, seeing him leave in such a hurry, "To the bathroom?"

Later, Leslie came back after healing the girl, but he ate the roasted meat Shu Li had made in silence.

He decided never to talk to Shu Li again.

Seeing Leslie eat so quietly, Shu Li couldn't help but think he was very well-behaved. Remembering he was afraid of the cold, he asked with concern, "Are you cold today?"

At this, Leslie couldn't help but lower his head even more, just shaking it slightly.

"If you're cold, tell me. I'll help you figure something out."

Leslie said softly, "Okay."

Although many small incidents occurred, overall, the winter hunt didn't leave much of an impression on Shu Li. He just felt it had wasted a day he could have spent at the market.

And the next day was the bishop selection day.

He had thought it would also be an uneventful day, but unexpectedly, Bishop Whitmore was found with the back of his head battered beyond recognition. By the time someone found him, his body was stiff and completely cold—

Before the altar, the crime scene was left in a scarlet mess.

Beside him lay an 8-inch divine statue that had rolled to the ground.

This shocked the entire parish personnel.